


A Not So Deadly Sin

by AFey



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFey/pseuds/AFey
Summary: Her staff all think she’s unaware of their latest...preoccupation.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 38
Kudos: 316





	A Not So Deadly Sin

**Author's Note:**

> I found this story in my drafts and thought I’d see if I could make something of it.
> 
> For S: I’m glad I resurrected this little fic I began a couple of years ago for your birthday. I’m even happier that it now seems to amuse you 😊

_Wednesday, 26 June 2013_

Her staff all think she’s unaware of their latest...preoccupation.

Excited chatter turns to sheepish silence the moment her Prada heels strike the marbled floor of the Elias-Clarke foyer. Eyes lift reluctantly from iPhones, and focus instead on the bank of elevators waiting to escort them all to the hallowed hallways of _Runway._

Miranda ignores them all, rides the elevator alone, and arrives at her destination with the thrill of purpose running swiftly in her veins. Even after so many years at the helm she derives immense pleasure from being the one in charge.

Ensconced in her office she plots and plans, reviews and rebukes, doing all she can to ensure hers remains the most influential fashion magazine in the world. Surrounding herself with the best, she determines trends, making and breaking careers along the way. 

Nothing happens at _Runway_ without her knowledge. Nothing. And so of course she notices staff wearing their guilt like out of season haute couture. She ignores them, as is her wont, and pretends not to notice anything amiss.

Yes, everyone at Runway is oblivious to the fact that their preoccupation has not only been noted, but as long as it doesn’t interfere with work, their behaviour will be tolerated.

******

_Thursday, 25 July 2013_

“No iPads at the table, Cassidy.”

“But, Mom!”

She suppresses a shudder and wonders why whining is not an attribute left behind with training wheels and nail biting. At sixteen her daughter should really have discovered better methods of expressing her discontent.

“Andy lets us,” Caroline interjects calmly, a note of calculation creeping in all the same. By now Miranda is used to her role of bad cop and it leaves her unmoved. 

“Well, Andrea isn’t here.” 

And with that, the only noise for minutes on end is the clutter of cutlery and the dramatic sighs of displeased teenagers.

The sound that rescues all of them from a meal spent in strained awkwardness is the telltale chime of her cell phone from the kitchen.

“I’ll get it,” they both shout, bolting from the table, a race from which Caroline emerges victorious.

“Hey, Andy!”

The conversation continues at the same volume as a dejected Cassidy returns to the dining room.

“Bobbsey.” Miranda stops and clears her throat. “You’ll have your turn soon enough.”

“I know,” Cassidy murmurs, sitting back down and staring at her plate.

Miranda understands the feeling. They all miss Andrea. She blames that completely for her next declaration.

“Of course, while Caroline’s on the phone you could get a head start,” Miranda says, motioning to the two abandoned iPads on the side table.

“Really?” Cassidy asks, the glee lighting up her face.

“Really,” Miranda confirms, noting that the role of good cop is sometimes a welcome departure from the norm.

******

_Monday, 29 July 2013_

At the end of a frustrating day, Miranda lies on her side glaring at the iPad propped up on her bedside table. Unfortunately, with eyes focussed on her phone and brunette hair obscuring her view, the recipient of the glare remains oblivious.

She clears her throat. “Are you even listening to me, Andrea?”

Miles away in Los Angeles, her wife quickly glances up and at least has the good sense to look guilty, even if she was careless enough to be caught in the act of distraction. 

“I’m sorry, Miranda.”

“Hmm,” she hums, one eyebrow raised. “Would you prefer I called at a more convenient time?”

Andrea snorts. A most unattractive sound when it emerges from anyone else’s body.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea repeats, dropping her phone on the hotel bed.

With Andrea’s gaze now directed on the iPad, Miranda can clearly see the strain etched on her face. Neither of them enjoy the separation brought about by both of their careers, but they know it’s the price of admission.

Andrea sighs. “FaceTime is better than nothing, but it’s still not enough.”

Miranda delivers another glare though it’s more for show this time. Of all people she understands her wife’s need to tune out and decompress.

“Well, you’ve been known to ignore my existence in New York when you’re caught up with that infernal game.”

“I really think you’d love it.”

“I highly doubt I’d find it enjoyable,” she sniffs.

Met with a pensive expression, Miranda prepares herself for a monologue about all the different reasons why people like gaming. Instead, Andrea simply shrugs and smiles.

“Probably not,” she agrees. “The vote of the masses can be…”

“Diabolical? Disappointing?” Miranda says, though she has a number of other adjectives ready on her lips. 

“Well, I was going to say surprising.”

“Mmm. Well we both know how I feel about surprises.”

“Yes,” Andrea agrees, and the fondness in her voice makes Miranda relax for the first time all day. “Surprises are only acceptable when you’re the one delivering them.”

“Precisely,” she says, fingering the collar of her soft, blue robe. “Speaking of surprises,” she continues, “I have something to show you.”

Andrea’s eyes light up and Miranda smirks in triumph.

“Close your eyes,” she purrs and waits until Andrea does her bidding. Rising from the bed she sheds her robe and then lies back down, angling her body to show it at its best.

“Open,” she orders.

Her wife does just that, her eyes flooding with lust, before rushing to remove her own clothing. When she repositions herself on the hotel bed, Miranda gloats in silence, smug in the knowledge that she is now the focus of Andrea’s undivided attention.

******

_Thursday, 29 August 2013_

Weeks later, Miranda walks into her study intent on delving back into the novel she’s been waylaid from all month. A sound plan that seems under threat the moment she hears the animated voices of her three favourite people. 

Caroline, seated between Cassidy and Andrea on the Edra sofa, wriggles with excitement. They all stare intently at the iPad on her lap. “I still can’t believe you scored a 5.7!”

“I know, right!” Andrea exclaims, her eyes bright when she glances up at Miranda. “That’s the closest I’ve ever been to a Top Look.”

“Yeah, the highest we’ve ever scored is 5.5,” Cassidy grumbles before pouting in a most unappealing manner. “How could some-”

“Cassidy,” Miranda warns, in no mood for churlish displays. She crosses the room and takes a seat in her favourite armchair. 

“Sorry Andy.”

Andrea winks at Miranda before smiling at Cassidy. “It’s fine. I’m sure Cass just meant, how could someone at a lower level score so high.”

“Yeah,” Cassidy agrees, giving Andrea a grateful look. 

“I bet it was the hair accessory,” Caroline states matter-of-factly. Her eyes flick to Miranda and then gaze back at her device. “It’s not fair,” she mutters. “ _We_ can’t spend any real money.”

“Andrea is an adult. She can fritter her money away on whatever she chooses.”

“Hey!”

Miranda ignores Andrea’s faux outrage and opens her book, removing the handmade bookmark she’s been using for years. She runs her fingers over its laminated surface, smiling at the early artistic endeavours of her girls. 

“You don’t understand,” Caroline laments. “If you actually played you might get it.”

Miranda sighs, looking up. “Darling, I don’t th-”

“I know,” Caroline interrupts glumly. “Gaming and technology aren’t your thing.”

“Mmm.” Miranda thinks it’s best not to point out that ‘thing’ is as displeasing to the ear as ‘stuff’. 

“Oh, that one’s appalling,” Cassidy scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

Caroline glances away from Miranda, staring back at the iPad. “Totally. There’s a way to mix prints and that’s not it.”

“I can’t believe that look made the Runway,” Andrea says, leaning closer to the screen. “Have they never read a fashion magazine?”

“They probably read Vogue,” Cassidy says with disdain and the three of them laugh.

Miranda smiles, looking across at them crowded around Caroline’s iPad. Even if she’s on the outer it pleases her that the game has brought the three of them even closer.

“Oh, let’s check out the rest of our Fashion House,” Caroline says. “I bet you scored higher than Emily.”

“And Nigel!” Cassidy chimes in.

As they giggle in unison, Miranda feels content despite her realisation that tomorrow is bound to be an exasperating day.

******

_Friday, 30 August 2013_

The following afternoon Miranda strides into an airy loft apartment, the last person to arrive for a preview of Joseph Altuzzara’s latest collection. With an aesthetic design reminiscent of Tom Ford, she has high hopes that the next thirty minutes will not be a waste of her time. As she exchanges the necessary pleasantries with Joseph, Miranda overhears the conversation she’s been anticipating all day.

“Can you believe she almost got Top Look?” Emily whispers to Nigel, though her voice is undoubtedly not as quiet as she imagines. “Seven years ago she couldn’t even spell Gabbana and now she’s...she’s...”

“Kicking your butt in a pointless fashion game?”

Emily huffs. “She is not. My style score is still higher than hers.” A sly glance follows and she mutters, “As well as yours.”

Before Nigel can respond, Miranda shoots them both a withering look and they straighten in their seats, turning their attention to the front of the room. For the sake of morale she tolerates their silliness, but she has her limits. 

At a nod from her, Joseph gestures to the first model and Miranda ignores everything else in the room. As he drones on about the intricacies of each design, she concentrates only on the garments. Either they’re acceptable to her or not, and no amount of explanation can influence her opinion. Thankfully, Joseph’s natural talent and hard work shine today and Miranda is pleased he’ll only need to modify a third of his collection.

Once she’s delivered her verdict, she sweeps from the room, and heads straight to the elevator, her mind filled with appointments and plans With the pending long weekend, and her promise to indulge and rest, Miranda knows the remainder of the day will be hectic. 

Outside the building, her car idles at the kerb, and Roy is already dashing around to open her door. She inclines her head in thanks, settles against the leather seat and then reaches inside her handbag retrieving her iPhone. After sending off instructions to both her assistants, and answering a few urgent emails, Miranda gazes out of the window and thinks, not of work, but of her family and all the joy they bring her.

******

_Saturday, 31 August 2013_

Her Saturday begins not with the leisurely sleep in she’d envisaged, but with squeals of delight emanating from somewhere outside her bedroom. Sighing, she drapes an arm over her wife’s lovely warm body, hoping to drift back into slumber.

The thudding footsteps in the hallway and cries of “Yes!” and “I can’t believe it!” ensures such a thought is sheer folly.

Andrea groans. “Aren’t teenagers supposed to be dragged kicking and screaming from their beds?”

“I blame Anthony,” she says. “Defective DNA.”

Andrea laughs, rolling over to face Miranda and placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Obviously, darling. We both know you’re perfect.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Miranda murmurs, nuzzling Andrea’s neck and trailing her hand along soft porcelain skin. Perhaps the impromptu wake up can be put to good use after all.

“Andy!” Caroline calls. A loud knock on their bedroom door follows.

Miranda rolls her eyes, moving away from Andrea, and pulls up the covers to prevent embarrassment all round.

“Come in,” Andrea calls out.

With that, both of her daughters dash into the room, iPads in hand, voices competing to convey whatever has them so excited at such an indecent hour.

“There’s a series starting,” Cassidy says at the same time as Caroline blurts out, “We can win a hair accessory!”

“Really?” Andrea says, her eyes just as bright with delight as the twins. “What do we need to do?”

Miranda closes her eyes, tuning out the specific details of whatever needs to be done to win some virtual prize. Call her old-fashioned, but she much prefers her fashion on her body where she can both see and feel it.

******

_Saturday, 05 October 2013_

The four of them sit in Sapporo East waiting for their lunch to arrive. While the twins and Andrea had vied for the tatami seating, Miranda had quickly vetoed that option. After an early start to the day and a two hour walking tour touted as the ‘Alternative New York’, she had steered them all towards an empty booth. 

Across from her, Cassidy and Caroline are glued to their phones, their meagre conversation consisting of comments to each other about make up, hairstyles and gown choices. She contemplates interrupting them but decides that she’d prefer not to eat her sashimi with a side of sullen. Besides, if she’s honest she is actually grateful the twins are willing to spend Saturday with her rather than their peers. 

Beside her, Andrea takes a sip of her Asahi and then rests a hand on Miranda’s knee. 

“I’m so glad we did this,” Andrea says, squeezing Miranda’s knee.

Miranda glances at her and nods her head before reaching for her own drink. She takes a small sip, savouring the delicate flavours of the sake. 

“It was a wonderful suggestion,” Miranda agrees, placing her ceramic cup back on the table. She leaves it unsaid that she experienced some of this alternative New York history firsthand. 

“The energy must have been amazing,” Andrea says, her eyes filled with enthusiasm. “Imagine being at the Pyramid Club in the early days.”

Miranda hums encouragingly and Andrea continues to speculate about how it would have felt to be at the club when RuPaul first began performing and Debbie Harry and Andy Warhol filmed their MTV feature.

As Andrea continues, her subject now the Punk scene that thrived in the East Village, Caroline looks up with interest. 

“Did you hear what the guide said about St Mark’s Place?’ Caroline pipes up, her eyes full of mischief when she glances from her phone to Miranda. “He said it was like a 24/7 fashion parade,” she says. “Punks on the catwalk,” she adds with a laugh. “Bet you would have loved that, Mom!”

Miranda lets a wry smile reach her lips. 

“Well,” she says, “they didn’t really care what someone like me thought, Bobbsey.” She gazes outside the window, watching the pedestrians walking by, their clothing generic and uninspired. “At least it was something different,” she muses.

“Hey!” Caroline says with excitement prompting Miranda to return her attention back to her daughter. Caroline elbows her sister in the ribs and says, “Wouldn’t it be cool if we got to style some punk looks?’

“Ow,” Cassidy says, a scowl on her face. “What was that for?”

“Sorry Cass,” Caroline replies, sounding not the least bit sorry. “I was just saying that it would be fun to style some punk looks.”

Cassidy rubs her side, but her frown has been replaced by a grin.

“Yeah, I’m a bit over challenges about princesses and fairies,” she says, waving her phone for emphasis. “I want a bit of attitude or something.”

Miranda refrains from mentioning that for someone tired of styling pretty looks she still spends a lot of downtime glued to her phone doing just that.

Andrea removes her hand from Miranda’s knee and leans her arms on the table. 

“I’d love to see some challenges based on real people,” Andrea says. “You know, politicians, civil right activists, writers. It would add a bit of history and education to the game.”

Miranda clears her throat, but decides not to mention all the legalities involved with using a person’s likeness in a computer game. 

The three of them continue their conversation, their suggestions for the game becoming steadily more outlandish. She glances out the window, enjoying their chatter and thinks just how lucky she is to have such well-adjusted children who adore their stepmother.

******

_Saturday, 12 October 2013_

“The black cape is acceptable, but we need different boots,” Miranda says as Andrea walks into her study. At her quizzical look, Miranda points to the sofa and wraps up her call.

“I thought you finished that Dior photo shoot last week,” Andrea says, reclining on the sofa, completely unaware of how beautiful she looks even when attired in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings.

“Mmm,” Miranda responds, abandoning her cell phone and walking over to join her wife. She sits down, waving her hand dismissively. “A different designer,” she adds, offering no more detail. 

“Okay,” Andrea says, looking like she’s about to fish for more information. Ever the journalist indeed.

“Are Cassidy and Caroline joining us?” Miranda asks, diverting the conversation away from her work. When the twins are home, Saturday night is the family’s designated movie night. 

“I think so,” Andrea says, snuggling closer on the sofa. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to an early night. If you know what I mean.”

A hand trailing its way up Miranda’s thigh makes her intention more than clear.

“I’d be amenable to that suggestion,” she says, thinking it's a shame she can’t just have her way with Andrea in the study right now. After a close call early in their relationship, they’re both mindful about letting themselves get carried away when the twins are in close proximity.

As if they can sense the atmosphere in the study, there’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Andrea removes her hand and they both straighten up mere moments before the twins rush into the study.

“Hey, Mom,” Cassidy says casually, her hair teased in what appears to be an attempt at an alternative hairstyle. Her eyes are rimmed in dark eyeliner, with lipstick to match. On her body a mismatch of repurposed clothing appears, a chaotic DIY construction that somehow still works.

Miranda narrows her eyes at the butchered sweatshirt.

“Cassidy Anne Priestly,” she says, with a huff. “That better not be one of your Chanel hoodies.”

Cassidy glances down at her body, as if unaware of the fact that the hoodie is missing one sleeve.

“Of course not,” Caroline says in a rush, ever her sister’s protector. “It’s one of Ashley’s,” she explains, referring to their over-indulged friend.

Miranda shakes her head but doesn’t press the issue. The fate of Ashley and her parents is none of her business.

“What do you think?” Caroline asks, “I did the makeup.”

Both girls stare at Miranda, awaiting her verdict. She clears her throat, preparing to offer a different type of fashion feedback.

“It looks awesome,” Andrea declares at the same time as Miranda says, “very creative, girls.”

Her daughters grin and Miranda relaxes, relieved to have responded in a way that is honest without being critical. Still, she’s not sure she wants either of them getting too carried away with this brand of real-life creativity.

“Have you selected a movie yet?” Miranda asks the girls, hoping to distract them from asking for more commentary on Cassidy’s new style.

“Actually,” Caroline says, glancing over at Cassidy. “We have some projects we need to work on.”

“Yeah,” Cassidy adds in support of her sister. “We have some super important stuff to do.”

Miranda stares at them, intrigued by their vagueness, wondering if she should push for specifics. As they both fidget, she decides not to push. Her girls are home and safe on a Saturday night - best to let them have their little secrets. Besides, if the twins are busy then she could definitely take Andrea up on her earlier offer.

“Very well girls,” she says, smiling as they both dash from the room with cries of “good night”.

“You know super important stuff is code for playing their game, right?”

Miranda hums noncommittally. Though she didn’t know that for sure, she’s not surprised by Andrea’s observation.

“You’re also aware they’ll be busy for at least an hour or a two,” Andrea says. “There’s a new Halloween series starting soon.” 

Miranda smiles, “In that case,” she says, rising from the sofa. “Why don’t I lock the study door?”

Not waiting for a response she crosses the room and does just that. When she turns, Andrea has already dispensed with her sweatshirt and is moving onto her T-shirt.

She leans against the door and watches as her wife continues to disrobe. When she stands naked before Miranda, she holds out a hand and growls, “Come here.”

Miranda’s clit twitches as it always does when Andrea takes charge. 

She walks toward the sofa - glacial pace, to enhance the tension - and then gently pushes Andrea down. In mere moments, she’s naked too and sitting astride her wife. They begin to kiss, mouths urgent, their desire building and building.

Andrea pulls away, and Miranda moans in frustration.

“Fast or slow?” Andrea asks, her hands firm on Miranda’s waist.

“Fast,” Miranda demands, delighted when two fingers move quickly between her legs. She bucks against Andrea’s hand, feeling herself get wetter and wetter.

Andrea slows her pace and Miranda grunts out her disappointment.

“Patience,” Andrea says, motioning for Miranda to shift from her lap.

“This better be worth it,” Miranda complains, rather miffed by the disruption.

Andrea simply smiles, moving from the sofa. “I have a surprise,” she says, walking over to a safe hidden behind one of Caroline’s recent paintings. Miranda admires the curves of her wife’s body as Andrea enters the combination, retrieves an item and then shuts the safe door.

After she straightens the painting, Andrea turns towards her. Miranda’s eyes widen in surprise when she spots the silk pouch dangling from Andrea’s hand.

Swallowing hard she murmurs, “Is that what I think it is?”

Andrea nods her head, looking very pleased with herself. “I thought we might have some alone time tonight.” She stops in front of Miranda, “Are you game?”

Miranda quickly signals her assent and rises from the sofa. 

“The desk seems like a good spot,” Miranda says, wasting no time in putting her words into action. “It worked for us last time.”

Andrea smiles, and her eyes glaze over with lust. If Miranda’s correct, her wife is also imagining the last time they enacted this fantasy.

“We’ll need to be quiet this time,” Miranda says.

Andrea grins as she begins to secure the strap on. “Of course, darling.”

******

_Saturday, 09 November 2013_

Miranda stands in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while engaging in a particularly frustrating call.

“It needs to be cerulean blue,” she commands, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. “Try the Alexander Wang,” she adds before hanging up with a shake of her head. Honestly, must she do her own job as well as everyone else’s.

“That smells great,” Andrea announces from the doorway. 

Miranda wonders how long she’s been standing there, her tousled hair and rumpled sleepwear detracting in no way from her beauty. 

“Are the girls up yet?” Miranda asks, motioning towards the pancakes. “We have tennis in an hour.”

“I think so,” Andrea replies, making her way into the kitchen and fixing herself a cup of coffee. As she brings the cup to her lips, she closes her eyes and Miranda stands transfixed, forgetting about everything other than the gorgeous woman in front of her. 

“Good,” she says, reluctantly returning her focus to the pancakes. Though people covet the glamour of her lifestyle, it's quiet moments like these that really make Miranda content.

The slamming of a door upstairs and a shout of “Yes!” shatters the silence. What sounds like a herd of elephants on the stairs follows and Andrea laughs. “Here come the troops.”

“Guess what!” Caroline yells, the first to arrive in the kitchen. She jumps up and down, waving her iPad in the air.

“We both got Best Look in Level!” Cassidy shouts, bringing up the rear.

“Seriously!” Andrea says, almost as excited as the twins. “Show me.”

The three of them sit at the kitchen island, voices raised, as they discuss the finer points of styling witches and the twins speculate about what to do with their winnings.

“Do you want to see, Mom?” Caroline asks, a hopeful note in her voice.

“Of course, Bobbsey,” Miranda replies, unwilling to be the only grinch in the room.

“Just let me plate up these pancakes and I’ll be with you.”

Both girls grin at her and the conversation turns to Andrea’s score.

“I haven’t checked,” Andrea confesses, with a blush. She looks up at Miranda, accepting the proffered plate, “I’ll take a look after breakfast.”

Miranda smiles at the memory of what waylaid her wife’s attention this morning. She places the twins’ pancakes before them, and then prepares herself a cup of coffee. She makes her way around the kitchen island and stands between Caroline and Cassidy as they excitedly explain the importance of unworn bonuses and staying in season.

“I rather like that cape you both used,” Miranda says when the twins run out of steam. “The onyx shade works well. Who’s the designer?” 

“Oh, it’s not a real-life designer,” Cassidy says as she digs into her pancakes. She chews, swallow, then adds, “I mean there’s plenty of clothes by well known designers. 

“Yeah,” Caroline continues. “Laurel DeWitt, Calvin Klein.”

“Yeah, and some of Stevie Boi’s collection has been added lately,” Cassidy enthuses. “It’s really edgy.”

“But the cape and boots are from a special collection,” Caroline says, finally answering Miranda’s question. “They have people who design clothes and stuff for the game.”

“Hmm,” Miranda says, moving back to the kitchen. She places the pan in the sink, adding water, intending to let it soak for a few minutes,

When she glances up, the girls are eating pancakes eyes fixed on their devices. On the other hand, Andrea sits in front of an untouched plate, quietly staring at Miranda.

“You’re not hungry, darling?”

Andrea shakes her head as if awakening from a trance. “No,” she says. “I mean yeah, I am,” she finishes, her voice thoughtful. She looks away from Miranda and focuses on her breakfast. “Starving, actually.”

Miranda smiles and thinks about all the ways their morning activities helped her wife work up an appetite. 

******

_Sunday, 17 November 2013_

Miranda enters their bedroom, smiling when she sees Andrea lying on the bed clad only in black boyshorts and a matching crop top. Of course, focused on her iPad her wife remains unaware of her presence.

“This is really interesting,” Andrea says, apparently registering Miranda’s presence after all. “Can I read it to you?”

“Certainly, darling.” Miranda removes her earrings as Andrea begins to share whatever it is that has captured her attention. 

Her heart skips a beat and her fingers pause at the top button of her blouse as Andrea’s words sink in.

“With a shock, Angela realises her boss, Miriam, is insisting she attend the annual gala,” Andrea says, her eyes meeting Miranda’s before returning to her iPad. “Style a sexy and compelling look that will impress her boss while leaving her colleagues green with envy.”

“That’s interesting,” Miranda ventures, waiting for Andrea to continue.

“Style requirements: a cerulean blue gown and two silver Mabel Chong jewellery items.”

Miranda swallows and concentrates on unbuttoning her blouse. She removes the blouse and walks into the bathroom. Surveying herself in the vanity mirror, Miranda notes the pinkish hue of her cheeks. Despite her relief that Andrea has put together the clues, she’s a little apprehensive about what will come next. Turning on the tap, she splashes water on her face and says, “I’m not sure I understand, Andrea.”

“You’re the brains behind this game,” Andrea states matter-of-factly.

Miranda turns off the tap and dries her face. She returns to the bedroom, unsure of the reception she’s about to receive. Her business partners have insisted on secrecy and so despite her inclination to do the opposite, she’s been forced to remain silent about her involvement.

To her relief, Andrea looks more amused than upset by the deception.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.” She unbuttons her skirt, sliding it down her body, hoping to distract Andrea from asking further questions.

“The Alexander Wang gown was the give away,” Andrea says, sounding very pleased with herself. “Though, the cape and boots from the Halloween series are what piqued my curiosity.”

“That’s fascinating,” she replies, removing her panties. 

Andrea smirks. “You can’t distract me with sex, Miranda.”

Miranda tosses her black La Perla panties at her wife and unclasps the matching bra. “Are you sure?” she teases, twirling it around her fingers before dropping it on the floor.

Andrea pats the bed and Miranda reluctantly sits down beside her.

“You’re not one for secrets,” Andrea starts, “so I’m guessing there’s some sort of legalities surrounding your silence.”

Miranda says nothing but raises an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

“I did some research,” Andrea continues, “In six months, GameCrown has made millions of dollars and increased sales for featured designers.”

Miranda remains silent, resisting the urge to explain that the in-app shopping was her idea. She also neglects to mention that since launching the game, _Runway’s_ staff surveys have revealed a significant rise in employee morale. Although, correlation is not causation she reminds herself. 

“Well, it certainly sounds like a successful endeavour,” Miranda says, desperate to reveal the truth but knowing she needs to respect the confines of her business arrangement. 

Andrea leans over and kisses her on the cheek. 

“The girls would be so impressed if they knew the truth,” Andrea whispers, somehow managing to figure one of the primary reasons for Miranda’s involvement.

Yes, the additional wealth is wonderful, allowing her to secure her family’s future while funding even more charitable interests. But seeing her girls, and Andrea, excited about fashion - her passion - is what really brings her joy.

A wandering hand interrupts her musings and she moans with delight as fingers gently tweak her nipple.

“Don’t worry, my darling.Your secrets are always safe with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this story - it’s a little different to my usual offerings.
> 
> Please comment to let me know what you think (:
> 
> Side note: I started this fic a couple of years ago when I discovered a fashion game featuring style challenges in the vein of those completed by Andy and the twins. Clothes by real-life designers are used by players to style “dolls”. Believe it or not, it’s extremely popular, even being played by designers themselves. So, I didn’t think it was a stretch to imagine the staff at Runway playing a similar game in this story.
> 
> And I loved the idea of Miranda appearing to be disinterested, but ultimately being the brains behind it all.


End file.
